


Tinkers, Tailors, Soldiers, Spies

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Kinda, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Multi, Other, Paranoia, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slow Burn, Violence, WIP, aka bucky's still 28, aka constant cell regen, also bucky's serum is more similar to steve, bucky adjusting to 21st century tech really slow, bucky remembers nothing after falling, i may draw fanart for this, talk of amputation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky fell from a train, that's the last he remembers. Now he's awake and everything is loud and his bionic arm is painful and all he knows is there's a man named stark who's good with metal and maybe he can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Catch A Speeding Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter starts off pretty violent. Fair warning.

When James Buchanan Barnes awoke it was to a sterile smelling room, a strong buzzing in his ears, at least six overlapping low voices, something like a piece of tire in his mouth, and his left arm felt heavy, twitching and weighing down his shoulder. He kept his eyes closed and he tried to sustain a slow even breathing, not wanting to alert anyone to his state of wakefulness.

“I hear Stark is making prosthesis for children now, the public is just eating it up, now the man has the soccer mom's of Manhattan swooning.”

 _'Howard Stark?'_ Bucky fought the furrowing of his brow as he listened in on the conversation, that name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

The fingers of his left hand curled involuntarily and he couldn't stop the deep, shocked sound he made, his eyes flying open to a dimly lit, metal box of a room. People in the room went silent, then began moving around him with purpose. He saw guns, big and shiny, looking like a single one cost more than his apartment back in the states. He went to lift his head, but couldn't, nor his arms, nor his legs, all of them restrained by cold, metal cuffs. The people were speaking over him, casual conversation as they came close and begin to mess with the contraption he was contained by, metal clanking as locks release, and suddenly the pressure on his limbs was gone and the chair tilted itself up with a whirring sound.

“Well, it's really not all that surprising is it? Stark ought to be good with metal.”

Some sounds of agreement came from different directions as the object in his mouth was removed and he could stretch his jaw again, teeth clicked together as he set his jaw and sucked in the cold, stale air.

“Asset, state your mission.” It's said by an aging man in a lab coat, black hair, black eyes. Bucky knew the words were directed at him, but he didn't understand, he knew it was English but it might as well have been another language because it just _didn't do anything_.

“Asset, state your mission.” The words were sharper that time, less emotionless and more impatient

“What?” Bucky asked in confusion, voice rough, he nearly didn't recognize himself speaking, had to question whether he actually did, but when the man's expression mirrored the confusion he felt, the man, who he assumed was some kind of doctor, turned around to look at the other men with lab coats in the room. They seemed to silently agree on something, one of them shrugging, a few sighing like they were disappointed in Bucky's lack of response.

When Bucky saw one of them coming towards him with a rather painful looking needled syringe, he panicked. He slipped sideways out of the chair contraption, knocking over the table on the way as he staggered into the corner, back to the wall. Wide-eyed and frightened like a small animal he watched with fear as the guns were pointed at him, and the man with the syringe changed direction and inched closer.

“Asset! Stand down!” One man shouted and Bucky gestured at him helplessly, keeping his eyes trained on the thick needle.

“Asset! Back to the chair! _Now_!”

Bucky lifted both hands in front of him in a placating manner, “Look, pal, I think there's been some kinda mess up here. I'm James Barnes, I'm in the United States Army, and you all sound American so I don't know if you realize but I'm on your...” His words trailed off and his eyes strayed from the needle to the glaring metal of his left arm, or what used to be his left arm.

“Holy Mother of God.” James whispered in astonishment, flexing his fingers and watching the metal glint with the changing angles of light. He saw a flurry of movement rushing towards him and ducked forward, under the arm wielding the needle. He pivoted and watched the man skid into the wall, fumbling the syringe to the ground as he tried to pick himself up. Gunfire echoed in the small room and made his ears ring. He dodged and hurled his body to the ground, crawling to cover behind the seat he'd awoken in.

He looked down to see dents in the floor where the tips of his metal fingers had dug into the ground, but it hurt, like everything was on fire from his collarbone down. Another shot banging distracted him, people yelling and things slamming around the room.  
He surveyed his limited view, from side to side, before he quickly tucked and rolled to dive behind a cabinet. Standing and taking a deep breath, he looked around his cover long enough to take a head count then dropped to a crouch.

Eight men, five with guns drawn. He could do this, he'd taken down bigger men before. _'I had em on the ropes'_. James shook his head of the stray thought and broke into action, dashing to the closest man and disarming him, knocking him to the ground with the butt of the gun he'd been holding, aiming to render him unconscious. Then the next man and the one after had no weapons, so Bucky wrestled them to the ground, throwing punches left and right. Getting behind cover then rushing out again. One by one the men fell to the ground until it was Bucky and the largest, meanest looking gun, and the shaking, bespectacled man aiming it.

The gun fired, aimed for his heart and James swung his left arm out hand outstretched, squeezing his eyes closed. A sharp thud and something hit his palm, his bionic hand closed around it in reflex. He yelled, it _hurt_ , and he heard the gun clatter to the ground.  
He opened his eyes slowly, breathing loud and heavy he practically growled, and chucked the bullet at the other man in his anger, but watched in horror as the bullet disappeared in the man's chest, a wet, wheezing sound just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing in his ears. The man crumpled to the ground and Bucky watched, as dark blood seeped out from beneath fabric.

James stumbled towards the body, gagging, and went to cover his mouth with his flesh hand but stopped when he noticed the blood on it. He froze and swiveled, flustered and fearing for the worst when he realized, he hadn't fought as a man, he'd fought as a _thing_. Now he stood as a _thing_ , over eight corpses, eight sons, husbands, brothers, fathers, people, _humans_.

“Urgh!” He groaned and grasped at his shoulder where flesh became metal, leaving a bloody hand print there as he pressed on the pain, the metal creaking and clinking as the arm begun to 'spasm', the fingers bending backwards and wrist twisting at unnatural angles. He needed to get out, now, and he needed to get help. _'Stark'_ , He remembered, _'I need to find Stark.'_

Bucky located the door, into a hallway, then to another door, bolted from the outside. He tore the metal from the hinges and staggered into the bright sun of the midday. The noise overwhelming, cars and their horns and people laughing, talking, shouting, lights were everywhere, natural and synthetic and big buildings cast shadows over stretches of streets packed with bright colors of everything and anything. Things he couldn't name were in excess and everyone seemed to have a small, rectangular device inches from their faces.

He choked on the salty tasting air and weaved through people, most hardly glancing over him, bloodied and haggard with greasy hair and no shoes. Oh, and glaringly metal arm. His ears still rang and his blood rushing helped him not at all. He had no sense of where to go, and mostly got pushed in the direction the majority of people were going. He passed shop fronts and alleyways and suddenly the shape of things startlingly looked familiar, different, very, very different, but with the bones of something like home.

He finally broke away from the throng of people into the street, looking up to try and gauge the time and heading by the position of the sun, then he saw it.

Giant, ostentatious, reflecting glass and chrome. **_'STARK TOWER'_**

Horns honked and he startled, quickly running out of the way knocking into parked things he assumed were cars, light posts and people, he ran up the steps and yanked open the door, glass cracking around the handle as he skidded into the lobby, eyes frantically jumping from object to object then he saw a strawberry blonde, staring with an appalled expression.

“I need to talk to Howard Stark!” He pleaded, but the answer came from behind him, a low, gravelly voice, equal parts surprised and scornful.

“He's dead, sorry, the next best thing is me.”


	2. Wake Me Up Inside

Bucky whipped around and was faced with a man similar in height to himself, with dark scruff, tanned skin, full hair, and a prideful personality. 

“Howard's dead?” Bucky's brows drew together as a surprised look fell to hopelessness before sudden realization came over him. 

“Are you the Stark who's good with metal? The one making prosthesis? Can you fix this?” Bucky thrust the contorted, creaking metal arm out towards Stark Jr. which caused the strawberry blonde to flinch. 

“Are you an engineer too?” James asked hopefully.

“Am I an engineer? The best in the state! Now, what's the problem with your arm?” The older man asked. 

The redhead stared at Stark like she was questioning his sanity, and just as she had opened her mouth to say something, Stark turned to her and smiled, wide and slightly forced. 

“Pepper! My love, how about you take the rest of the week and spend it on the west coast, I hear the weather will be great. Jarvis will send your bags after you, as always.”

“The weather's always nice in California.” Pepper had a sour look on her face, then glanced between the grungy stranger and Stark Jr. then she threw her hands up by her face in defeat. 

“Fine, fine, I'll go.” She leaned over to Stark and kissed his cheek, which left a faint pink lipstick mark, “Be careful, Tony.” 

'Tony', as Bucky now knew his name, had a dopey smile on his face as the woman walked out of the building, her tall heels clicked under her on the tile. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Tony rounded on Bucky, and looked over him in contemplation. 

“Come on, I'll bring you to a room I can work on your arm.” Tony moved toward a set of metal doors and gestured Bucky to follow. 

Bucky stumbled into motion, walking toward the doors, his breath caught as the doors parted smoothly and opened to a small metal room, a little too reminiscent of the room he woke up in. 

“Uh...,” Bucky hesitated, looked over to Tony and then stared into the small room, worry clear in his eyes. 

Stark paused and raised a brow inquisitively at Bucky, “It's an elevator, it's going to take us to the floor we need.” Tony moved into the elevator and beckoned James inside.

“That's an elevator? Where's the operator?” Bucky asked as he stepped into the supposed elevator with caution.

Tony looked confused for a split second before it was hidden behind a blank expression.

“Jarvis, manual override.” After Stark spoke the gibberish, Bucky watched him reach forward and press a series of lighted buttons on a small panel.

The room whirred into action, Bucky clung to the wall, his metal arm banged against the metal wall which sent a shock of agony up his arm.

Tony faltered towards Bucky as the 'younger' curled over and grabbed at his shoulder.

The elevator dinged to a stop and Stark barely pressed on Bucky's back, guiding him out of the elevator onto a bright, white walled floor with mechanical looking devices everywhere.

Bucky was led to a reclined table where Tony had him sit sideways.

Once Bucky was seated on the table Tony moved around and collected supplies. The 'older' man gathered screwdrivers, pics and various medical supplies before he set them all on the table next to Bucky's hip. 

Amongst the medical supplies was a needle that Bucky hadn't been particularly happy to see, and as Stark had picked it up and opened the sterile package, James reached out with his flesh hand, and covered one of Tony's to stop him. 

Their eyes met, and Bucky inhaled shakily, before he stared at the needle. "No needles... I don't know what happened to me but they must've kept me unconscious with some kind of drug... And I don't... I don't want it." 

Tony seemed to think over the situation before he conceded and put the needle back. 

Stark then grabbed a rolling stool and sat on it before he pushed over to a cabinet, and pulled out an emergency kit. 

"I don't know how much this is going to hurt you, but I think pills will help a little bit. I don't have anything to numb you completely... But you don't need the full-fledged, pain-packed experience." 

Tony rolled back over and put two small white pills on the table and gestured for Bucky to take them.

The younger man did, swallowed tightly and dryly around the tablets. The pain steadily got worse, to the point where his whole body seemed to vibrate in an effort to disrupt the agonizing burning in his metal arm and shoulder. 

 

“Alright, let's have a looksy.” Tony pulled the metal arm closer, positioned the forearm over his knees while he curved one hand to support the shoulder. 

Bucky cringed at the throb but complied with the movement, supported his upper body weight with his flesh hand, curled it around his own thigh and squeezed into the stiff muscles. 

“I'm going to see if I can access the inner wiring, there's probably a transmitter and something connecting it to your nervous system, but I need to make sure there isn't a way they can control the arm... or track it for that matter.” 

Tony had noticed the blood that stained James' torso, and since there wasn't an obvious wound, he figured it was the product of however Bucky had gotten here. 

James huffed a laugh that morphed into a pained groan when Tony managed to unhinge a panel, the metal bending out to expose a mess of wiring, mechanisms and thin tubing that seemed to be pumping a dark, thick sludge through the arm. 

“No offense, but I'd rather not have the play by play.”

Tony lifted his head, tearing his gaze from the Frankenstein meets Terminator horror show that was happening inside the arm. He caught sight of Bucky's face, the mix of pain and fear contorting the closed eyes and pinched mouth. 

“Right,” Stark popped his lips then resumed, gently pushing wires aside with a rubber tool, “Tell me then, where did you hear my name? How'd you know to come here?” 

Bucky puffed out his cheeks as another pulse traveled up his arm. He slowly let the breath escape then opened his eyes and looked around for a visual distraction. 

“I woke up... I mean it felt like I was asleep for minutes, but I'm pretty damn sure that it's been longer.” He looked at the strange electronics on the table behind Tony pointedly before he lifted his hand from his knee and covered his eyes. 

“When I woke up, there was a bunch o' guys in a room with me, small and metal, I was strapped to a chair, and it was... They all were talking, chatting, like small talk, waiting for me to wake up, I guess, and one of them mentioned 'Stark making prosthesis for kids' and how 'He's probably a hit with the moms now, like he wasn't already'.” Bucky shook his head then slid his hand down to his chin, and noticed the substantial scruff there. 

“Thought they'd be talking about Howard... Assumed.” James frowned before he looked at Tony, “But if you're his kid... and you gotta be what? Thirty-Five? Forty? That don't make any sense.”

Tony hummed as he disengaged the first lock he found within the mechanics, a small 'click' sounded out. 

“I'm forty-five. Howard died twenty four years ago, at the age of seventy-four.” 

Bucky's eyes widened as he tried to work out the numbers in his head, but the only thought in his head was that he outta feel worse for his age.   
“We were the same age... That means...”

“Yeah, you're old.”

Bucky focused sharply on Stark Jr. wanting to think of some comeback, some way to explain that there was _no way_ , and that he _didn't feel a day older_ than the twenty eight years he was when he fell, but another click sounded from inside his metal arm and he yelled hoarsely as the arm detached itself, flopping into Tony's lap, still attached to tubes and wires that disappeared into a plate that rested on the mutilated flesh of his shoulder. 

Tony stared, brown eyes wide, as he hadn't really expected that to work as well as it did.

“Well, I'll be damned.”

Bucky grunted in agreement as Tony pulled a tray up next to him and carefully placed the arm down on it. The older man moved to help Bucky lie down on his back with the exposed shoulder hanging over the edge of the table. 

“You still sure you don't want the pain meds? This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

James breathed heavily and stared resolutely at the ceiling, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. It was like getting a shot, it hurt something fierce but if you didn't look at it, it wasn't as bad. 

“Alright...” Tony said warily before pushed the sides of the plates in, another click, rotated the outer ring of the plate, another click, pushed in the sides again, another click and then he pried the plate from Bucky's shoulder. 

The pain was overwhelming, and seconds later James was unconscious on the table. 

Tony looked at the thick wire protruding from where the plate had been in disgust before noticed that Bucky was out. 

“Uh... Jarvis?”

The AI came to life on the computer in the corner of the room, “Mr. Barnes appears to be fine, sir, his heart rate is returning to normal, and other than the distress of the pain and the confusion of waking in a different time period, he seems mentally well.”

“Huh... Have you scanned the arm?” Tony put the plate on the tray with the rest of the arm and it's mess of wires. Wheeled it over to the station he had set up for working on more delicate projects. 

“Yes, sir, it as you were saying earlier, there is, in fact, a tracking chip but I've blocked signals exiting and entering the tower, so if you will go ahead and disable the tracker, I can reestablish communications to and from the tower. Then perhaps it would be wise to inform Captain Rogers?” 

“Mm, yes to communications, no to Capsicle. Where is the tracker in the arm?” Tony pressed his lips together and pulled on his head lamp with the magnifying glasses, looked into the opening he had made, half way up from the 'elbow' of the arm.

“The tracking device is located behind the star emblem, however there is also a reservoir of what appears to a drug, meant to increase aggression and lower anxiety in the subject. The same drug is currently in Mr. Barnes' system but the arm was disconnected before the full dose could be administered.” 

Tony grimaced and began cut the star away from the arm's framing, exposed the box that contained the tracker, and the receptacle of sludge Tony now knew to be the drug. 

“Should he be contained? It looks nasty.”

“No, sir, the amount of the drug in his system currently will fully metabolize without harm should he stay unconscious for at least two point seven five hours.”

“Okay... Good.” Tony removed the tracker and stood, then moved to grab one of the suit's spare repulsor gloves. He looked back at the man asleep on his work table then walked out the doors onto Iron Man's launch pad, tossing the box up into the air while he slipped the glove on. A bright beam lit up the sunset colored sky as he hit the tracker with the repulsor beam and turned the box to metallic dust that got swept away in the wind.

A low warbling from behind him made him turn as he removed the glove. Coming to face Dum-E, who had a bottle of scotch in it's claw. 

Tony huffed a laugh and patted the robot on it's head while he took the bottle. 

“Thanks, bud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temporary chapter name I swear.  
> also please point out any errors you find as I tend to write sleep-deprived and edit sleep-deprived


End file.
